Like Godfather, Like Godson Book 2
by serpentine097
Summary: Sequel to, you guessed it folks, Like Godfather like Godson Book 1. Watch as a new and improved, pugnacious and sarcastic Harry does pretty much everything that the cannon Harry does! more exciting than it sounds
1. Chapter 1

"Supplanto!" A jet of light blasted from Harry's wand and struck its target.

Power Reading: 65%

Accuracy: 55%

"Good," said Sirius, grinning at him. "you're getting there."

"I love these training dummies," said Harry.

"Don't make me regret my decision to let you in the dueling room," Sirius warned.

"Man, you really have no faith in me," Harry whined, pouting at Sirius, who smirked.

"Now, the tripping jinx you almost got down. Give me a cutting curse."

"Conseco!"

Power Reading: 71%

Accuracy: 65%

"Alright, now give me some fire." Said Sirius.

"Mucro incendia!" A fire shaped like a sword's blade extended from his wand. Harry swung it at the dummy.

Power rating: 95%

Accuracy: 40%

"Excellent," said Sirius.

"But I got a 40," said Harry.

"That spell's insanely difficult to control. Be happy you got to where you are now. Alright, that wraps it up for today."

Harry nodded, gladly holstering his wand. He was dead on his feet. "Thank Merlin," he muttered.

Harry stumbled into the bathroom and took a nice, long shower. He got out and, wrapped in a towel, stepped inside his bedroom. He got dressed, brushed his teeth and headed downstairs. Vinconex was lazily curled up on a couch. He trilled at the sight of Harry. He rose into the air and alighted on Harry's shoulder.

"Hey kid, ever seen a guy get mutilated because of his own pee?" he asked in Harry's head.

"Um, no?" said Harry.

"Ok, so there was this one guy in Brazille. He takes a dip in the Amazon and starts peeing, but there's this fish that's attracted to human pee. He literally swims up the man's member. The man decides to pull it out, but the blood attracts piranas… you can guess what happened after."

"The piranas lived happily ever after?" said Harry.

"Yup," said Vinconex.

"And they say I'm psychotic," muttered Harry. "By the way, did you get any letters yet?"

"Nope," said Vinconex.

"Damn. I haven't got any letters from the guys," said Harry.

"Isn't today your birthday?" asked Vinconex.

"Yeah," said Harry.

"Well, happy birthday then," said Vinconex.

"Thanks," Harry replied gloomily.

"Ah, come on. Hey, how bout this: I take you to Barcelona to see a bullfighting match, huh?"

"No thanks, Vinconex."

"Ah, come on! Idiot humans running around getting chased by angry bulls, what's not to love?"

"Not in the mood," said Harry, suddenly feeling tired.

Vinconex instantly shot up like a cannon ball, his head flicking left and right. "I sense a disturbance in the force."

"Vinconex, seriously, starwars references get old real quick."

"Well, fine then. I sense a displacement in the wards, happy?"

"Where?"

"I can't tell."

"I'll get my knife," said Harry. Sadly, he wasn't allowed a gun yet. Only during training would he get a gun. He rushed upstairs and into his room, Vinconex flying invisibly behind him. He instantly stopped, his mouth agape.

A little house elf was happily bouncing on his bed, giggling to himself. He instantly stopped at the sight of Harry. "Harry Potter!" it squeaked. "Such an honor it is!"

"Um, who are you?" asked Harry. "Kreacher!"

"Master called?" Kreacher materialized with a loud crack, his eyes instantly gravitating towards the other house elf in the room. "Why yousa not with your master, Ichtengal?"?"

"This is more important," it snapped. It finally turned to Harry. "I be Dobby, sir, Dobby the house elf."

"But Kreacher called you "Ichtengal"," said Harry.

"Yes, that be our elven name," said Dobby, "not our common name."

"Yeah, house elves are weird like that," explained Vinconex.

"So, why are you here?" asked Harry.

"Mesa came to warn Harry Potter," said Dobby.

"About?"

"Yousa must not go back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year."

Harry sat there, stunned. "Why not?"

"There is a plot," he said, "a plot to make the most terrible things happen. That is why mesa come here, sir. Harry Potter is too great and noble of a wizard to die."

"Um, I appreciate the warning and all, but I have to go back. Hogwarts is like a second home to me."

Dobby's eyes instantly filled with tears. "Yousa thanked Dobby!" he squealed. "Yousa truly a kind changeling!"

"A changeling is a baby fairy or elf," explained Vinconex.

"But what's the plot?" asked Harry.

"Mesa cannot say," said Dobby. "My masters will put a hurtin' on me. They would probably kill me just for being here, sir."

"Then theysa be not good masters," growled Kreacher.

"No, they aren't," affirmed Dobby, to the astonishment of Kreacher. Dobby quickly got off of the bed, ran towards Harry's bedside table and started slamming his head against it, while repeating, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

"Stop!" Harry cried. Dobby stopped at once. Harry went over to Dobby and bent down. "Damn, you ok there?"

Dobby stared at Harry with worship clearly written in his eyes. "Yousa care for meee," he said. "This is why yousa cannot go back. Yousa must stay here, where be safe. Mesa thought that by hiding the letters—"

"Wo, hold on there," said Harry, straightening up. "You hid my letters?"

"Mesa thought that if yousa thought yous friends had abandoned him, then yousa not want to return to school, sir."

"Where are they?" Harry growled.

"Yousa must promise me not to go back."

"I won't," said Harry.

Dobby got up.

"Kreacher! Get him!"

Light leapt from Kreacher's palm, wrapping around Dobby and binding Dobby in place. "Yousa not be escaping," he growled.

"Mesa sorry!" cried Dobby. "Mesa only want to protect you! Yousa not want to hurt me!"

"I won't hurt you," said Harry. "Just tell me where the letters are and I'll let you go."

"Well, yousa have to let me go so mesa can get the letters."

"Yeah, right," said Harry.

"Yousa want letters, don't you? Yousa let me go, and mesa get letters to you."

"Fine! Kreacher, release him." Kreacher snapped his fingers, and the light ropes binding Dobby vanished.

"Mesa sorry," said Dobby. "but this is for yousa own good." And with that, he vanished with a pop.

"Dammit!" snarled Harry. "Got tricked by a bloody house elf."

"Mesa sorry," said Kreacher sadly.

"Nah, it's not your fault," said Harry, patting Kreacher on his bald head. "It's mine for being an idiot."

"What's going on here?" Sirius stood in the doorway, looking around the room.

Harry explained to him what happened.

"A plot?" asked Sirius.

"You don't believe that, do you?" asked Harry.

"Of course not!" said Sirius. "Do you know how dishonorable it is for a house elf to abandon his masters' house? It clearly was a prank. Have you made any enemies?"

"Well, Vold—"

"Beside the obvious, Harry," said Sirius.

"Well, Draco Malfoy," said Harry.

"Ichtengal be serving da Malfoys, Masters," said Kreacher.

"Ichtengal's Dobby," said Harry at Sirius's confused look.

"There you go," said Sirius. "Now, get your butt downstairs."

Harry walked downstairs, still pretty miffed about being tricked by a little house elf. Although, the slight resentment he felt towards his friends faded. They did write to him. He wandered into the kitchen, smiling at the sight of his surrigot family: Sirius's boss, as tall and imposing as ever, Remus Lupin, the full moon still not doing him any good, Nimphadora Tonks, sporting a short, spiky hairdo with a sceptum, a ripped jacket and a t-shirt with a barby doll with an arrow through its head to complete the image, Appalonia, standing next to her husband Kingsley, and Dierdra with her sister Carmella, staying close to their mom.

"Happy birthday!" they chorused.

"Thanks guys!" Harry said, grinning at them and rushing forward to the onslaught of hugs, handshakes and pats on the back.

"Looking good, Prongslet," said Lupin, smiling down at Harry.

"Thanks, Moony," said Harry.

"Alright, you kids be off now while Appolonia and I do the cooking," said Sirius.

"No, no, no, you are not helping me again," said Appolonia.

"Oh, come on," said Sirius, "the firefighters cleaned it up."

"You destroyed my oven!" retorted Appolonia, the smile negating the scolding tone.

"Ok, then Appolonia will do the cooking," said Sirius.

"That's better."

Harry, Dierdra and Carmella ran off into the living room, Vinconex trilling a greeting.

"That's a cool bird, Harry!" exclaimed Carmella, gazing at the bird.

"He's a good birdie, aren't you Hedwig?" said Harry, ruffling Vinconex's feathers affectionately.

"Call me Hedwig one more fucking time…" warned Vinconex. "I pity the fool who dares to call their pet by such a despicable name."

"Mr. T? Really?"

"Can I play with the birdy!" squealed Dierdra.

"Sure," said Harry. To Vinconex he said, "She's only 7 and a squib. Please don't scar her for life."

"Both of them are?" asked Vinconex.

Harry nodded sadly.

'Why are you so sad?" asked Carmella. She was four years older than Dierdra.

"I'm not sad," said Harry.

"Good, cuz its your birthday!" said Dierdra happily. She stroked the bird's soft feathers, then cried out in pain.

"Dierdra!" Carmella cried. She ran over to her. Vinconex's razor-sharp feathers had neatly sliced her finger.

"It cut me!" cried Dierdra.

Vinconex trilled with sadness. His head hovered over her injured finger, then tears started to drip from his eyes, sealing her wound. Dierdra gasped, looking at her finger which was good as new.

"It made me better!" she squealed. "Harry can I please keep it?"

"No, he's my bird," said Harry patiently.

"Daddy! I want a birdie!" cried Dierdra, running to the kitchen.

"Now she won't stop bothering him," said Carmella, chuckling. "What kind of bird is it? I am sure I read about them in a book somewhere?"

Harry rolled his eyes. What book hadn't Carmella read? "It's a cockatrice," he said with a straight face.

Carmella clapped a hand to her mouth. "You're kidding right? Please, please tell me you are kidding."

"Nope," said Harry, popping the p.

"Do you realize how dangerous cockatrices are? On average, it takes approximately 10 wizards to subdue them, not taking into account power levels and level of skill! Furthermore, Sirius is highly irresponsible for keeping one in the house!"

"Well, it's pretty tame to me," said Harry.

"Merlin, Harry, you have got to be more cautious. Otherwise you could end up in serious danger."

Harry just shrugged.

"Oh, you can be so recalcitrant at times."

"Ow, four-sylable words! They hurt! They hurt!" Harry made a show of grabbing his head in pain.

The dinner was very noisy and happy, Appolonia's cooking being as godly as always. Harry's presents consisted of a broomstick servicing kit from Sirius, an action novel written by a wizarding author from Lupin, a copy of "Frowned upon but Legal Ways to Kick Ass Revised Edition" from Kingsley, (Harry's eyebrows were raised at this one), and a studded belt with an invisible weapons holster from Tonks. And that was Harry's 12th birthday. But what were the Weasleys upto…


	2. Chapter 2

"Alright, we're not getting any letters from Harry," said Ron for the billionth time.

"Yes, we know," said Fred tiredly. "But what are we supposed to do?"

"Ya know," said George, a smile creeping up on his face, "Dad's been working on that old Ford Anglia. Shall we take it for a spin?"

"Let's do it," said Ron. It was about 11:30 as they said this.

They set their alarms for 4:00 in the morning. They quietly crept down the old wooden staircase, taking care not to make anything creek and groan. They converged outside the burrough, heading towards the back where they knew the car was kept. Finally, they saw it: a large, black four-door 1986 Ford Anglia, with absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about it, except maybe for the fact that it looked as good as new. There was no rust underneath it, the transmition was in tip-top condition, and it had 0.00 miles on wonders of magic.

"Let's ride," said George. His dad hadn't even bothered taking the keys out of the ignition. He got behind the steering wheel, Fred taking the passenger's seat and Ron sitting on the back. He started the car and smiled as the car automatically backed up, turned itself around and started to drive itself. Upon reaching the dirt road that ran out of their property, it stopped. The road was only there because whomever owned this land previously was not at all magical, even though the community nearby was a magical one.

"Now let's test this baby for real," said George. He pushed a button labeled "launch". Instantly, the car started to ascend, faster and faster until the house was nothing but a speck to their eyes. They whooped with joy as they zoomed forward, gleefully taking that car to its limits. It was a good thing that its gas milage was a decent 95 miles per hour, though flying automobiles do tend to be gas guzzlers.

"Do you have any idea where we're going?" called Ron.

"Um, a bit," said Fred, checking on the compass on the dashboard. He pressed a button labeled "Invisibility booster". He drove, well flew, onwards, looking out at the land far below them. Finally, they saw it: London was within their sights, so they only needed to find Grimmauld Place. After much maneuvering and nearly crashing into a huge bowing 747 that came out of Heathro Airport, they did. They instantly honed in on the houses there. All the houses seemed normal enough. However, one house seemed to shimmer in and out of existence, as if it was trapped between this plane of reality and another one and couldn't decide on which to settle in. They approached it, and it sharpened into focus. It was a huge, Victorian-style mansion. They whistled appreciatively. They looked through the many windows, trying to find the right one. One looked into a huge bedroom decked in red and gold, but, as they approached that window, the person in the bed was much too tall. They flew to another window, this one looking into a smaller, yet spacious bedroom. They could see a few posters with the word Metallica in the middle of a moving firestorm.

"That's a band," said Ron. "a muggle one. Harry loves 'em. Best bet it's his room."

"Harry!"

Harry James Potter was in a large bar, wearing a leather jacket, a concealed wolfer ppk on his right shoulder. "One Martini," he said, smiling at the pretty bartender. "shaken, not stirred of course."

"Ah, I love your British accent. I just adore men with British accents," purred the bartender.

"Harry, dammit wake up!"

"You flatter me," said Harry, as the bartender set his martini down on the bar in front of him. He elegantly tipped his whine glass, taking a sip of the liquid.

"Goddammit Potter, wake the fuck up!"

"What is your name, darling?" asked Harry.

"Honey," came the replied. "And yours?"

"Call me Potter," said Harry. "Harry Potter."

"WAKE! UP!"

Harry groggily woke up, looking around. Vinconex was hovering circles above him, his feathers smoking slightly.

"Merlin, Potter, you are seriously a heavy sleeper," said Vinconex. "I had to scream at you three times in order for you to actually get up."

"Well, why did you wake me up? I was having a good dream," Harry muttered.

"Look outside," commanded Vinconex.

Harry did, and nearly fell off his bed. Floating innocently just outside his window was a black car. Now that Vinconex mentioned it, Harry could hear the roar of an idling car. "Well, what do I do?"

"Just open the damn window," said Vinconex.

Harry opened it just enough so Vinconex could squeeze through it. He flew circles around the car, peering through the front windows into the faces of Fred and George.

"Never mind," said Vinconex. "Its merely those ginger teammates of yours."

Harry sat up, surprised. "Wait, Fred and George are here?"

"I believe I just said that," said Vinconex.

Harry got out of bed, opening the window all the way. The car turned around. The passenger door opened, and the smiling face of Fred Weasley popped out. Harry finally could tell them apart.

"How's it going, Harry?" called Fred, jovially waving at him.

"How'd the hell did you get a flying car?" blurted out Harry.

"A "fine, thank you, Fred" would have been nice," said Fred, grinning at him. "It's our dad's. We're coming to get you out of here."

"Get me out?"

"And take you to our place," said Fred. "Now, get your stuff, get yourself dressed and be in the back seat in half an hour. We might just be able to get back before Mom notices the car's gone."

"Well, I'll have to ask Sirius," said Harry. He got up and ran out the door. "Sirius!" He went into the master bedroom, waking up Sirius. "The Weasleys are here and they want to take me to their house for the rest of the summer. Can I go?"

"Sure," muttered Sirius sleepily. "Make sure to take that mirror."

Harry dashed back to his bedroom. Now, I know what you are thinking: what kind of irresponsible guardian would let a 12-year-old boy just waltz out of their domicile to an unknown location to as of yet unknown people?Well, what kind of guardian teaches their kid how to kick ass with their hands, knives and guns, among other things? Harry quickly got dressed in ripped, tight-fitting jeans, the belt he got yesterday, an Alice in Chains t-shirt and a pair of Air Jordins. He quickly packed his trunk, strapped his wand holster to his wrist, and took his favorite hunting knife for good measure.

"You ready yet?" called Fred.

"Almost!" called Harry. After brushing his teeth and doing various other hygenic necessities, he was ready. "Now, how the hell do I get in?"

To answer that, the car drove forward, the back left door opening. Harry gingerly clambered onto his bed, reaching outside the window. He felt a sense of acrophobia as he cautiously edged more and more outside the window.

"Ah, come on you big baby. You'll only break a few bones if you fall," chided Vinconex.

"Gee, that makes me feel so much better," thought Harry. "Just grab my trunk and follow us." He reached a hand out to grab onto something. He seized Ron's hand. Ron tried to pull him forward, but only managed to nearly dislocate Harry's shoulder. Harry then sighed and let go of Ron's hand. He would have some explaining to do after this. He concentrated, imagining the interior of the car. He appeared there in a burst of fire, lying across the backseat and on Ron's now singed lap.

"Ah! Get off me!" cried Ron. Harry got up, moving around so that he was sitting on the seat. He closed the door.

"Now, we can begin our journey," said George. "By the way, how the hell did you just appear like that?"

"Flame travel," said Harry. "Since I'm bonded with a cockatrice, I share some of his cool abilities."

"So, Harry, how come you didn't respond to our mail?" asked Ron, a little hurt in his tone.

"Look, man, I'm really sorry," said Harry, "but this psychotic house elf took all my mail and hid it Merlin knows where. Then he tells me some bullshit story about Hogwarts being in serious danger next year. It's the Malfoy house elf so Sirius reckons it's just a stupid prank to get me not to go back to school."

Flying cars were awesome, no doubt about it. They flew for what seemed like hours, while in reality it was, actually yeah, a few hours. Vinconex had wisely stowed Harry's things in the trunk of the car, while he was lying contentedly on Harry's lap. Finally, the journey was over. Harry could make out a large house whose construction definitely was magical in origin, for the haphazard way it was put together could not have possibly stayed up the muggle way. They descended towards the dirt road. When it touched down, the car started smoothly towards where it was kept originally, turning around. George put the car in nutral and killed the engine. He motioned for everyone to quietly come out. Harry did so, Vinconex grabbing Harry's stuff and flying outside with it.

"Ok come on now ssh, ssh," hissed Ron, motioned for Harry to follow him. They all surveyed the area to make sure the coast was clear. "Ok come on."

"It's not much," said Fred, "but it's home."

"It looks cool!" whispered Harry, meaning every word of it. They quietly wandered near the door.

"Ok, the story is that Sirius had to do something at work and—"

"Where! Have! You! Been!" Molly Weasley, matriarch of the Weasley clan and the worst fear of her children, strode outside, hands on her hips. She looked like the stereotypical mother, concluded Harry: short, very plump, an apron covering her front. "Oh, Harry!" she said warmly, raising her eyebrows slightly at Harry's choice of clothing. "How good to see you dear." She then unleashed her ungodly wrath on the quivering Weasleys. "Beds empty? No note? Car gone? You could have died! You could've been seen!"

"We can explain," said Ron sheepishly.

"This does not need any explanation," huffed Mrs. Weasley. "You took the car out for a joyride, stopped by the Black Family manner, and decided to take Harry with you here." She turned back to Harry. "Come in, dear, how about some breakfast?"

Harry greatfully followed Mrs. Weasley, anything to escape the awkwardness of the situation. The interior of the house was not extravagant by any means. Harry's house was very tastefully decorated, with only the finest furnature in all the rooms. This house, however, was different. The kitchen, for example, was rather small, a rickety wooden table and nine wooden chairs around it, one of the chairs being larger and more handsome than the others at the head of the table. Mrs. Weasley motioned for Harry to sit down. He did, thanking Mrs. Weasley and examining the other things in the room. A large grandfather clock caught his eye. It looked very similar to the watch he got last Christmas, with all the hands pointing toward "Home", except for the ones labeled "Arthur", "Charlie" and "Bill", which were pointed to "Work". Mrs. Weasley then proceeded to cook some eggs, bacon and sausages, the smells filling the kitchen and making Harry's mouth water. The three Weasleys finally trooped in, heads down, dejected expressions on their faces. They each took a seat, surrounding Harry.

"Sorry guys," whispered Harry. "It's all my fault."

Ron clapped Harry on the back, mouthing, "you would've done it for me." Breakfast was ready, and plates were being passed out. Suddenly, Harry heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Mommy have you seen my jumper?" A little girl with flaming red hair appeared at the bottom of the stairwell.

"Yes dear it's on the hanger."

The girl took one look at Harry, her face turning a bright red. She gave a startled squeak before scampering back up the stairs.

"Who's that?" asked Harry.

"That's Ginny," said Ron. "She has a major crush on you."

"I do not!" Ginny had appeared again.

"Yes, you do," said Fred. In a high-pitched voice, he said, "Oh Harry! You are sooooo hot! Please marry me!"

"Shut up," said Ginny in a low, dangerous voice.

"His green eyes are soooooo cute!"

"I swear to Merlin—"

"That's enough," said Mrs. Weasley. "Ron, Fred, George, you three are going to degnome the garden after breakfast." Mrs. Weasley put a large platter in the middle of the table. He stared at the succulent sausages, bacon and ham that resided within. He waited until one of the Weasleys got some food before happily putting some food on his plate. "My God this is awesome," said Harry.

"Thank you dear," said Mrs. Weasley. She nearly passed out as Vinconex calmly flew inside, unceremoniously dropping Harry's trunk on the floor before vanishing in a burst of black fire. "Was… that…"

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Harry. "Please excuse him. He can be really rude sometimes, here let me get that." He stood up, walking towards the trunk.

"You… own… a…"

"Cockatrice?" supplied Fred happily.

"I always wondered," said Harry, "how is it that not everyone knows what a cockatrice looks like?"

"Well," said Ron. "your bird does look like any other exotic bird. Only those who read a whole lot would actually be able to tell it's a cockatrice."

"And what are you doing with one?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"He's my familiar," said Harry.

"You really are as great as the books say," she said.

"He's not that bad though," said Harry.

Suddenly, they heard the door opening and closing. The hand labeled "Arthur" spun from "Work" to "Traveling" to Home" in about a few nanoseconds. The man in question appeared. He was tall, with balding hair and a kind face. He resembled Ron: lanky, big hands and feet. "Hello Weasleys," he said tiredly. "Nine raides in the Ministry today. Nine."

Everyone replied with "Hello". Sirius told Harry that a Mr. Weasley was working in the misuse of Muggle artifacts department, a department whose sole responsibility was to keep magical idiots from tampering with Muggle objects. Cases often ranged from shrinking keys to biting toilet seats to the occasional shower drain/black hole, but that's a story for another day.

Mr. Weasley's gaze turned to Harry. Harry noticed that, like Mrs. Weasley, his eyebrows raised slightly at Harry's choice of clothing. "And who might you be, young lad?"

"I'm Harry, sir," he said.

Mr. Weasley's eyes traveled up to Harry's scar. 'Ah, Harry Potter. It's so good to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, sir," said Harry.

"Pardon me, but, how did you get here?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"Apparently," said Mrs. Weasley sternly, "your children decided to go gallivanting off in that car of yours and kidnap Harry from Black Manner."

"How was it?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"It was awesome!" chorused the three Weasley boys.

After receiving a death stare from Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley said, "I mean, that was very wrong indeed boys, very wrong of you." Turning to Harry, he said, "I know that your godfather is deeply fascinated in all things Muggle. Can you tell me what, exactly, is the function of a rubber duck?"

Hharry was about to respond when they heard a mournful screech. "That'll be the post," said Mrs. Weasley. She rushed over to the window, opening it so that a flock of owls, including an extremely tired and frail-looking owl, flew in, delivering envelopes to their respective owners. They were marked with the Hogwarts coat of arms. Harry tore his envelope open. The supplies didn't change at all, but the books sure did:

SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ by Miranda Goshawk

_Break with a Banshee_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Gadding with Ghouls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Holidays with Hags_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Travels with Trolls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Voyages with Vampires_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Wanderings with Werewolves_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Year with the Yeti_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

Fred looked at Harry's list. "You got all Lockhart books too?"

"Who's Gilderoy Lockhart?" asked Harry.

"Only one of the most legendary men in the wizarding world!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley. "He's so brave… so charming…"

"Mom has a crush on him," whispered George. Mrs. Weasley, who heard him, gave him an icy glare.

"But Mom," said Ron. "Lockhart books are really expensive."

"We'll manage," said Mrs. Weasley. "Oh, I almost forgot. Degnoming time. Off with you three!" She went over to a bookshelf and pulled out a really shiny book entitled "Lockhart's Guide to Pest Control". Harry took a look at the cover. A tall man wearing purple robes smiled up at him, revealing insanely white teeth. He had absolutely no facial hair to be seen, and his blond, wavy hair ran down to his shoulders perfectly. "Now, I want you to—"

"We know how to degnome a garden, Mom," said Ron with exasperation.

"Well then, if you think you know better than Gilderoy..." Harry noticed Mr. Weasley give the book a murderous glare..

"Do you always have to bring him up?" he said tiredly.

"Why, his books are very helpful."

"We both know you're into far more than his books."

"Let's go," hissed Ron.

They all ran outside. Since Harry's house didn't have a garden, Harry never had to worry about garden gnomes. "How bad are garden gnomes?"

"They're annoying," said Fred. "Dad thinks they're funny though." Harry then saw them. They were very short, with the head the size, shape and color of a ripe potato. He looked down at one.

"Here, let me show you," said Ron. He seized a gnome by the ankles, picked him up and started spinning it around and around until, with a finaly spin, he flung the gnome through the air. "You have to make sure they're dizzy so they can't find their way back."

Harry grinned. "I got this one." He proceeded to happily swing gnomes around and around and fling them as far as he could. This was a pretty decent workout too.


	3. Chapter 3

"Alright kids, it's time to go shopping." It was later in the day, and Harry, Fred, George, Percy who just showed his face, and Ginny were grouped around the fireplace.

"Vinconex! Mind giving me a lift?" pleaded Harry in his mind.

Harry heard a tired sigh before Vinconex appeared in a burst of black fire. Everyone jumped. They were still not used to Vinconex's random flashes into existence.

"I'll just go with Vinconex, if that's ok," said Harry.

"No problem, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "Not a problem at all." Harry grabbed Vinconex's tail feathers. Vinconex concentrated, and with another flash of fire, the two were gone.

"The fuck?" was the first thought in Harry's mind. This was not Diagon Alley. There were no colorful shops here. The beautiful, snowy-white building that was Gringots did not appear anywhere in sight. There was not anyone within Harry's line of sight. What Harry did see, though, was the most depressingly dark alley he had ever seen. There was trash lining the cobblestone street, and all the shops in sight appeared to be about to fall apart. What was displayed ranged from seemingly harmless books to severed skulls, some that Harry could swear seemed to be looking right at him.

"Shit," cursed Vinconex. "We're in Knocktern Alley. Not good, not good at all."

"How did we end up here?"

"A mistake on my part," said Vinconex.

Then, Harry saw something that nearly stopped him dead. Through the front window of a bookstore called Borgin and Berks, he could make out a flash of platinum blond hair. He only knew one person to have that exact same shade of hair. "Wonder what Malfoy's doing here?" Harry thought. In response, Vinconex waved his tail feathers in invitation. Harry did so. Vinconex peered through the window, appearing to look for something. Then, Harry felt his surroundings change. Now, he was in a large black cabinet. He opened the doors slightly, so that he could appear through the small crack that formed.

A tall, blond man strolled through the shop, carrying a jeweled cane in his left hand. He wore finely tailored robes and knee-high, buckled boots. Draco Malfoy was at his heels, looking around the shop curiously.

"But father, I thought you were going to buy me a racing broom?" he complained.

"Quiet, Draco. I have some business to take care of first."

"I don't even see how it matters anyway," said Draco. "I'm not even on the house team. Potter got onto the team because he is oh so famous and the champion of the light and all that dung."

"I said be quiet," said Malfoy Sr. more sternly. "It would not do you well to publicly speak ill of Harry Potter, seeing as how the majority of our world sees him as a savior for defeating the Dark Lord." Then, Harry heard a bell ring. "Draco, don't touch anything."

A middle-aged, greasy man appeared behind the counter. "Oh, Master Lucius Malfoy, and his son. How delightful. I just received a shipment of.."

"I am not looking to buy today, Borgin," cut in Lucius coldly.

"Oh? Then what do you need from me?"

Lucius pulled out a roll of parchment. "The Ministry has been conducting more and more raids as of late, and there are certain things in my house that they might find, a-hem, slightly questionable."

"Ah, I see," said Borgin. "But why fear anything? You are highly respected in the ministry."

"Although the Malfoy name still commands a great deal of respect, it is wise to take precautions to make it stay that way."

"So, I presume you wish to sell me these items."

"Yes. Draco, what did I tell you about not touching anything?"

Malfoy had approached a shriveled-up hand on a cushion. Borgin rushed over to look. "Ah, the hand of glory. It is a remarkable object that, upon the insertion of a candle or similar light source, the light becomes visible only to the holder. A useful tool for the successful thief or plunderer."

"I very well do hope that my son does not become a thief or plunderer," said Lucius icily.

"Oh, no, sir, I meant no disrespect."

"Although, if his grades don't improve, he might just become one. Now, back to the list."

They started to haggle. Malfoy curiously looked at all the items for sale. He examined a beautiful necklace made of opals, a nametag proudly declaring: cursed item. Caused the deaths of 19 Muggles as of yet. Touch at your own risk.

"Draco, we are leaving," declared Lucius. Draco followed his dad out the front door.

Borgin immediately lost his smooth tone. "Good day, Malfoy. If the rumors are true, then you haven't sold me half of what's on that list."

"Blackmail material," chimed Vinconex once they got out.

"Care to explore some more?" asked Harry.

"I knew there was something I liked about you," said Vinconex. He appeared invisible. Harry strolled down the alley way. There were shops everywhere that was devoted to the dark arts. "Hey Vinconex, I always wondered. There's obviously a huge crapload of illegal stuff here. Why doesn't the Ministry just come in and tear it down?"

"Simple," said Vinconex. "They can't. In order for an operation of such magnitude to occur, a percentage vote that's some big number has to be reached in the wizengamot, and since a lot of those fucks like it here…"

"Not lost are you my dear?"

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. His wand was out and pointed at the woman's face in an instant. "Beat it, hag," he snarled.

"Oh, dear me!" she said, cackling. "I did not mean to scare you." She was carrying a tray full of human fingernails.

Harry was contemplating bashing her head against a shop window when he heard a booming voice. "Harry? What you think you're doing down here? Come on!" Hagrid strode over to them. The hag let out a squeak before scampering away, some fingernails falling from her tray. Harry holstered his wand. "Skulkin' around Nocturne Alley? Dodgy place. People might think you're up to no good."

"I was lost!" said Harry. "And what were you doing here then?"

"I was lookin' for flesh-eating slug repellant," said Hagrid. "They've been ruining all the school cabbages. Now let's go. The others are worried sick."

"Well, toodle oo," said Vinconex. "I met a really nice wild boar that seems very delicious." He flew away and vanished.

"Damn cockatrice," Harry muttered. "He brought me here."

They finally arrived at Diagon Alley. Harry blinked. They literally made a right and there it was. There was no magic, no portal, no nothing. It was just an intersection. One street was insanely dark, the other insanely happy and crowded. He saw the Weasleys up ahead. He ran towards them, Hagrid easily keeping up with him. They finally reunited.

"Oh, Harry dear, thank goodness you're alright!" squealed Mrs. Weasley, crushing his lungs with a hug.

"Harry!" Hermione had appeared, along with Neville. "It's so good to see you."

"Hello," said Neville, smiling at him.

"Where were you?" asked Ron.

"Apparently Vinconex decided to take me to Nocturne Alley."

"Sweet!" chorused Fred and George. "How is it?"

"You will never, ever find out," said Mrs. Weasley sternly. "Now that you're all here let's go get your supplies."

The large group, with the edition of Hermione, Neville and their families headed towards Gringots. Harry was slightly curious to see the other vaults in Gringots. One awesomely death-defying and exhilarating cart ride later and they arrived at the Weasley's vault, which consisted of barely any money. Mrs. Weasley just scooped it into a sack and came out again. The Longbottom family vault was large, consisting of a few heirlooms and a modest pile of coins. Harry's vault still had a huge assortment of coins waiting eagerly to be spent. Harry scooped as much as his bag could allow and left. He noticed the look of jealousy Ron shot him.

None of them needed new robes, so they headed towards the bookstore. Harry noticed a huge congregation of people in front, mostly women ranging from curvy young blondes to huge cows. Harry then noticed the sign proudly displayed on the door:

**Come to Gilderoy Lockhart's Book signing Event!**

Gilderoy Lockhart, a man who is good at almost everything he tries, will be signing his works today at Flourish and Blots. Do not miss this chance to meet this talented young man in person! Hurry now! He doesn't have all day!

A huge picture of the man was drawn below. They had to wait in the back of the massive line. The line seemed to be moving really slow. Then, it happened.

"It can't be Harry Potter." The man of the hour had spotted Harry in the back of the line. His eyes lit up. "Harry Potter!" he cried. He excused himself and jogged over to him, a daily prophet photographer trying to keep up. He reached him, a huge smile gracing his pretty boy face. "Well well, Harry Potter, it seems you and I will make the front page, eh? Young Harry Potter, who simply wanted to buy my autobiography Magical Me, which incidentally has celebrated its 87th week on the Daily Prophet's best selling list," Applause broke out at this, and Harry was trying not to punch this guy. "He had no idea that he will be getting my entire collected works…" dramatic pause… "Free of charge." Applause broke out at this, along with sighs of regret. "Oh, but there's more." The crowd fell silent. "Since Harry Potter wanted to buy Magical Me in the first place, then that is what he shall get, the Magical Me, for starting next year, I, Gilderoy Lockhart, shall take up the post as Defense against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry!" Thunderous applause broke out at this. Harry inwardly groaned. He would've rather faced Quirrell any day over this pompous prick. "Now, stand next to me, Harry. There, that's it. Now smile, no no, smile. Look alive, kid! There, that's it." A blinding flash came from the photographer's camera, and Harry was forever doomed to a life of notoriety. Damn peer pressure, he thought savagely. He received a huge cauldron, containing almost every single book he needed for next term. Well, this meant he wouldn't be paying for them. He smiled at this. He and his group and were allowed into the bookstore, which was packed this time of year, now more than usual.

"I hate him," said Harry once they were out of earshot.

"I think he's brilliant!" said Hermione.

"Because you're a girl," said Harry bluntly.

"It has nothing to do with the fact that I am a girl!" yelled Hermione, attracting some odd looks.

"I hate him too, mate," said Ron.

They bought the rest of their books and headed towards the counter. Then, Harry groaned. As if he didn't get enough of his pale face once, it just had to show up again, along with his no-good father.

"Harry Potter," came Malfoy's drawl. "Famous Harry Potter. Can't even go into a bookstore without getting your picture taken can you?"

"Not in the mood for your crap, death eater," Harry growled.

Harry noticed Lucius's gaze harden with cold fury. "My my, someone's touchy today. Didn't get enough autographs?" shot back Draco.

"Now now, Draco, play nicely," said Lucius. He turned to Harry. "Harry Potter," he said. His eyes traveled up to Harry's scar. "Forgive me, but… your scar is legendary." He relaxed somewhat, the hardened gaze he had acquired lessening. "As well as the man who gave it to you."

"Oh, you mean your master?" Harry said sweetly.

Ron inwardly wanted to applaud Harry and smack him at the same time.

"I have reconciled with the sins of my past," said Lucius.

"Sorry you got caught, eh?" Harry said.

"That's enough," cut in Mr. Weasley.

Lucius' gaze flicked towards Mr. Weasley. "Ah, Arthur. How is work treating you? All those extra raids, surely they are paying you overtime?" His eyes flicked to the clothing of the family. "I stand corrected. But what could I expect from a disgrace to the name of wizard."

"We seem to differ on what it means to be a disgrace in the name of wizard, Malfoy," said Mr. Weasley coldly.

Lucius took one of Ginny's books from her, examining it. It was in the second hand section, its pages torn and in some cases a little illegible. "Clearly. And just when I thought you could sink no lower."

Suddenly, Mr. Weasley lunged at Lucius, fists raised. He sent a punch straight at the jaw, knocking Lucius back and into a shelf of books. Lucius retaliated with a kick to the stomach. Mr. Weasley stood up, panting, then he punched Lucius in the eye. Lucius got Mr. Weasley in the chest, knocking him onto the floor. All the while, Neville, Harry and the Weasleys were cheering him on, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley looking on in horror and disapproval.

"Get his legs!" Harry cried.

Hagrid instantly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. He picked up the fighting men in each hand like teddy bears, glaring at them. "What the hell do you two think you were doing? Fighting like common Muggles out in public? This is what you teach your kids?" He let them go, the two men looking sheepishly at each other. Lucius was sporting a black eye, while blood was running down Mr. Weasley's face. "See you at work," said Lucius, glaring at Mr. Weasley as he left, motioning for his son to follow him.

"See you at school," said Malfoy, glaring at Harry as he followed his father.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I keep on forgetting to add this, but better late than ever. So, yeah, J. K. Rowling, I don't own any of your shit, cuz if I did, do you honestly believe I'd stick to writing fanfics when I'm bored? I'd be spending my money on guitars, women, and other necessities.

The Grangers were shocked to say the least. Augusta Longbottom kept shooting disapproving glances at Arthur. The assistant manager of the shop was deciding on whether to kick Mr. Weasley and crew out or just stay put, Hagrid's massive form making him decide the latter. Ginny bent down to retrieve the book Lucius had taken from her earlier. She glanced at it a little oddly before placing it back in her cauldron.

Once they left outside, Hermione spoke. "Can't believe he would do that, in the middle of a bookstore no less. A poor example of parenting. What would Gilderoy think?"

"He was happy," said Fred. "I heard him telling his photographer to snap pictures of the fight."

"Gotta give it to him," said Harry, "but Malfoy does have a mean left hook."

It was a subdued group that reappeared at the Burrough.

The rest of the month was chaos, confusion, and utter pandemonium. It was one of the best months of Harry's life. Nothing was neat and clean, no matter how hard Mrs. Weasley tried to make it so. And, like all good things, the summer holidays came to an end.

Even though they woke up at the crack of dawn, there was still a lot to be done. People were frantically running around, half-eaten muffins in their hands, trying to get some last-minute packing done. Harry had said goodbye to Sirius using the mirror. He grinned at him, wishing Harry the best of luck. Then he had gone to work.

And then, they all piled into the car. Harry wondered how eight people were going to fit in that car, but he figured that Mr. Weasley must have put some enchantments on it, for the back seat had comfortably seated Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George, while Percy and Mrs. Weasley were sitting side by side on the passenger's seat.

"Amazing," said Mrs. Weasley. "Muggles certainly know how to invent. Whoever thought this car was so roomy from looking at the outside?"

Harry suppressed a snort. He whispered to Ron, "She knows that it can fly and that Mr. Weasley put enchantments on it, so why does she think it's a Muggle thing that the car's so big on the inside?" Ron just shrugged.

Weasleys being Weasleys, the chaos didn't just stop as soon as the car doors closed. Fred and George had to run back inside to get their supply of Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks. A little later, Ginny forgot her diary. If this kept up, it would take a miracle to make it to the station. Or…

"Molly dear," said Mr. Weasley nervously, indicating the silver button labeled "Launch". "I programmed an invisibility booster, so the muggles."

"No, Arthur."

"But we need to get to the train and."

"No, Arthur, I don't want to hear any more on it."

They somehow made it to King's Cross station. They were going in two at a time. First, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley went, followed by Ginny and Percy, then the twins. Now it was 10:59. Harry and Ron started to roll their luggage towards the barrier, briskly walking faster and faster, the barrier getting closer. Soon they would make it, just a little more and… CRASH! Harry tripped and fell on the floor, Ron doing the same. The passersby stared at them in shock.

"Sorry folks," said Harry, jovially waving at them. "Nothing to see here, we just lost control." He turned to Ron and whispered, "We're fucked!" They were. The clock was ticking: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… 11:00 AM. "We missed it!" he cried. They had tried to get through the barrier again, but the barrier was refusing to be anything but non-magical. They put their ears to the barrier, hearing absolutely nothing.

"How are we going to get to school?" hissed Ron.

"Could always ask Vinconex to flame us," said Harry. "Hey Vinconex! I need a ride."

"No, you don't," growled Vinconex. "Who the hell do you think I am, Potter? I am a couple thousand-years-old mighty cockatrice, and now you decide that I'm nothing more than an instant fucking taxi service? Well guess what, mister? No! I am chilling in Barbados right now with a group of attractive tropical birdies, and I will appreciate it if you, unless you are in a life-or-death situation, shut the hell up and stop asking me for rides every damn chance you get! Vinconex out."

"Um, he's busy," said Harry, clutching his head. Man that bird gave him a splitting headache when he yelled like that.

"Well, can't you?" Harry contemplated it.

They arrived near the car, their stuff still in the luggage cart. Harry grabbed his luggage cart and the shoulder of Ron, who was also grabbing his luggage cart. Harry concentrated on the great hall, the four house tables, the candles that would float above them… he visualized them in his mind, bringing them into focus… and absolutely nothing happened. He swore sulfuriously before turning to Ron. "Well, we have no choice. We'll have to wait for your parents in the car."

Ron's eyes lit up. "The car!" he exclaimed.

"What about it?"

"We can fly it, idiot! Mom and Dad don't really need it. They can just apparate everywhere. Besides, there is something in section 19 of whatever that says that underage wizards are allowed to use magic in emergency situations.

"Let's do it," said Harry.

They loaded their luggage into the trunk of the car, Ron taking the driver's seat and Harry riding shotgun. Ron started the car, which cruised over to a nearby street. The street in front of them was completely empty. Ron launched the car into the air. The car rose smoothly upwards, gaining altitude faster and faster. Ron smiled and pressed the invisibility booster button. The car vanished from view. Then, it reappeared again.

"What's wrong with this thing?" Ron cried, hitting the button again. The car flickered into invisibility before becoming very much visible.

"Do you see the train at least?" shouted Harry.

Ron squinted down. Then, they both saw it. The scarlet steam engine was cruising its way northward, its passengers relaxing in their comfortable seats on their nice warm carriages. Ron followed the train, giving up on the invisibility booster. They couldn't turn back now.

So far, Air Weasley was a pretty good airline. Sure there wasn't an in-flight movie, there wasn't a flight attendant to speak of, and the food was a bag of wizard candy, but it was still pretty fun. Harry and Ron chatted animatedly about anything and everything, munching on taffies and chocolate frogs as they talked.

"Where the hell are they!" shrieked Hermione. She paced back and forth in her carriage. Neville, Dean, Seamus, Fred, George and Ginny were crowded in with her.

"Did they say anything before they left?" asked Dean.

"For the third time, no!" shouted Hermione.

Harry and Ron were bored beyond belief. They had run out of candy half an hour ago, they had really nothing else to talk about, and the interior of the car was getting hotter and hotter. They were sweating and unable to think straight. Ron's boundless appetite demanded something more substantial than some liquorish wands, and his growling stomach was proof. But then, they saw it. They could faintly make out the outline of Hogwarts Castle, even from this altitude. They grinned to each other. Now, all they had to do was slowly descend, and they would land smoothly on the grass. They started to fly closer and closer… they were almost there… whoosh! The car instantly dropped with a gut-wrenching velocity. The engine was screaming now.

"Oh no, the car's tired!" cried Ron.

"Well, make it be tired somewhere else! I enjoy living!" shouted Harry.

Ron activated the emergency handbrake, which managed to slow the car down. However, this landing wasn't going to be smooth. Then, the car started to veer away from the grass, heading towards the forest. The car shot forward, crashing into a tree and smashing its windshield in the process. It impacted the ground with a crash that almost had Harry crashing against the window if not for the seatbelt. They sat there, dazed. Ron killed the engine and sighed in relief.

Then, they heard a low, creaking noise. They looked up. The tree was moving. It was actually moving. One of its low-hanging branches swung outward and smashed into the windshield, destroying it even more. Ron jammed his wand into the ignition, trying to get it started. The keys were on the floor. One of the branches hit the car with such a force it put a massive dent in the hood, causing Ron to lurch forward, and, with a sickening crack, snap his wand in half. Only a few hairs held the two halves of the wood together.

"My wand!" Ron cried. "It broke my wand!"

"It least it wasn't your neck!" shouted Harry.

The tree came back for another round. This time, the car decided to actually preserve itself. The engine turned over three times before starting. It back up, narrowly missing another branch before finally gaining some distance between it and the demon tree. All four car doors opened, and Harry's seatbelt magically unclipped itself. With a violent blast of magic, Harry, Ron, and their luggage were expelled from the car. The car doors and the trunk door slammed shut. The car then turned around, flashed its high beams at them, turned around again, and shot towards the forest.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry rubbed his eyes. Those high beams hurt. "I'm guessing your dad's auto insurance won't cover that?"

Ron looked blank for a second before answering. "This isn't a joke, Harry! I'm dead! We're dead! We lost the car! Plus I bet you some muggles saw us while we were flying!"

Harry nodded gravely. "Let's just go. Maybe we'll make it for the feast."

They dragged their trunks behind them towards the castle. They made it up the stairs. However, the huge wooden doors opened before they got to them. Argus Filch stepped out, his squinty little eyes taking in their disheveled appearance with glee. "Oh dear, we are in trouble," he drawled. Harry considered just flaming to Gryfindor tower, but that would do more harm than good in the long run. Filch would definitely tell a teacher about it. "Follow me, you brats. You've got an appointment with Professor Snape."

They walked down the dungeons, still lugging their trunks behind them. They approached a door, which Filch knocked on. Snape opened it, greasy and hook-nosed as ever.

"I got the culprits, Snape," Filched growled. "They're all yours." He turned around, leering at the two boys before walking away.

"Inside," Snape growled. "Now!"

The two shuffled inside, letting go of their trunks. Snape motioned them towards a couple of chairs, which they took morosely. They stared around at their surroundings, and nearly gagged. They were in a large office, with shelves on just about all the walls of the room. They contained jars with different substances in them, each fouler than the last. It was like the apothecary all over again. How could anyone like to be hanging around here?

"You have been sighted," Snape said, his voice icy, "by no less than seven muggles!" He slammed a muggle newspaper down on the table.

**Woman claims to spot flying car**

Oh, the world is truly changing. We no longer hate the Russians, there is a network linking all computers together, and now, according to an anonymous source, flying automobiles seem to be next. Earlier today, Natalie Wassermann, age 65, could have sworn she saw a flying car up in the sky as she was doing her laundry.

Harry stopped reading. They were screwed, and they both knew it. Snape turned to them. "Do you have any idea how serious this is?" he demanded. "For a grand entrance into this school, you two bumbling idiots have risked the exposure of our world! Furthermore, you have done damage to a precious womping willow that has been planted since before you were born!"

"Honestly, professor," Harry said. "It did more damage to us." Of course, this was the wrong thing to say.

Snape turned to him, fire in his eyes. "Your cheek will get you nowhere, Potter! If you were in my house, I would personally see to it that you are on the Hogwarts express tonight. Unfortunately, I do not have that happy power, so I am going to turn it over to your head of house."

Right on queue, Professor McGonagal stepped through the doorway. She walked toward them, her eyes falling upon Harry. "Harry Potter," she said. "Oh, how I wished you would gain Lily's rule-abiding nature. Clearly, you take after your father. Only your father would have the capacity to land himself in this much trouble before the term even started." Harry might have imagined it, but the faintest smile appeared on her lips. "What were you two thinking?" she shouted, her demeanor changing instantly. "Just because you take after two marauders does not mean you should act like one!"

"We had no choice!" Ron said. "The barrier was blocked!"

"And why did you not send an owl?" said McGonagal.

"I, uh, don't have one," said Ron, blushing.

"And you, Harry? Your familiar has the impressive ability to travel great distances with ease. He could have easily brought you here."

"He was in Barbados," Harry muttered, absently rubbing his head. "He yelled at me when I asked him for a ride."

She pursed her lips, clearly more agitated than ever before. "Then clearly he is not a great familiar," she said.

"So, can we get our stuff now?" asked Ron.

McGonagal raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean, Mr. Weasley?"

"You're gonna expel us aren't you?"

"And why would I do that?" They stared at her, flabbergasted. Snape looked as if Christmas was canceled.

"I will not expel you… yet," she replied, putting a great deal of emphasis on "yet". "However, I cannot impress upon you enough the seriousness of what you have done. I will be writing to your guardians tonight, and you shall both receive detention."

"Minerva, a simple detention will not suffice," Snape interposed. Just then, the door opened a second time to reveal the grim face of Albus Dumbledore.

He strode inside the office, eyes twinkling like always. "So, I hear a couple of young gentlemen whished to take up the Marauders' mantle?"

"It wasn't our fault, Professor!" insisted Harry.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Of course it wasn't."

"Headmaster," Snape cut in again. "These boys have undermined the decree for the restriction of underage sorcery!"

"I am quite familiar with the bylaws, Severus, having written quite a number of them myself. However, I second Minerva's decision." He then turned to the two boys, a stern expression on his face. "This will not happen again," he said. "If the two of you do something like this again, I will expel you from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry. Do I make myself clear, gentlemen?" He said it conversationally, as if talking about the weather, but you'd be an idiot to not notice the menacing undertones.

"Yes, sir," the two chorused.

"Good," he said cheerfully. "Now, I do believe you've missed the feast." He flicked his wand and a small round table appeared in front of the two chairs where Harry and Ron sat, loaded with two large trays of chicken, steak and mashed potatoes. Silverware followed, and, without waiting for any prompting, the two greedily dug in. McGonagal excused herself, leaving for her office.

Meanwhile, Snape looked more and more disgusted by the minute by this intrusion into his office, which only made the two boys eat as messy as they could, happily getting bits of the baked chicken on the floor.

After they had eaten their fill, (the plates kept refilling themselves with something different when they were close to being empty), Dumbledore vanished the table. "Well, gentlemen, I trust you know your way to Gryfindor tower?" he said. The two nodded. "Well, then I shall bid you farewell." With that, he left. Harry and Ron went back to the tower, relieved at the outcome.

"Congratulations!" Harry and Ron had been pulled through the entrance to Gryfindor Tower. Everyone had seen their spectacular crash landing from the windows. Fred and George were beaming at them with unwavering pride, Hermione and Percy was shooting disapproving glares at the both of them, and Neville and the rest were gazing at them, clearly impressed. "Brother Mine," Fred said. "You have done us proud tonight. And just when we thought there would be no hope for you."

"Are you joking?" cried Percy. "They could've died! They could've been seen!" It's funny, Harry thought, that wizards put being seen on the same level as dying. The rest of the night was filled with excited chatter, followed by them all going to bed.


	6. Chapter 6

Sirius Orion Black

Biggest bedroom

No. 12 Grimmauld Place

London, England

Dear Mr. Black

It is my great displeasure to inform you of a recent event that occurred, involving your ward, Harry James Potter. Harry James Potter saw fit to hijack a muggle car enchanted to be able to fly and, with his friend Ronald Billius Weasley, fly it to school. As I am sure you are well aware, this act breaks the International Statute of Secrecy, along with the restriction of underage sorcery. Please note that Harry Potter will receive detention at a date to be designated later.

Respectfully

Minerva McGonagal

Deputy Headmistress

Sirius was very conflicted. His parental side wanted to kidnap Harry and make him do pushups until his muscles melted, but the marauder side of him was grinning in pure delight. His own godson was well on their way to overshadowing the Marauders, exactly what James would've wanted. "Moony!" he shouted, running out of his bedroom and down the stairs.

Harry and Ron were in tenterhooks. Any minute now they were going to get something from their guardians. Breakfast was a miserable affair, consisting of anxiously hoping for the owls to come here soon so they could just get it over with. Furthermore, Hermione was giving them the cold shoulder. She silently walked down with them to breakfast, not even saying good morning to them. Any attempts for Ron and Harry to talk with her were ignored.

Finally, thee owls came, the owl that Harry saw back in the borough flew toward them, barely able to keep himself upright. He crash-landed on Ron's plate, squashing the pancakes beneath. He extended his leg.

"Errol!" Ron groaned. "You always do this!" He took the envelope. It was colored scarlet. Everyone who knew what it was winced in sympathy. Hermione and a few others just looked on in confusion.

"What is that?" asked Hermione.

"A howler," muttered Neville darkly.

"Just open it," said Harry. "Best to get it over with."

Neville shuddered. "Listen to him. Believe me he's right."

Ron, trembling, opened the envelope. It was empty, save for a voice that probably would have made Voldemort cringe.

"Ronald Weasley!" came the shrill voice of Mrs. Weasley, amplified so it reverberated through the entire hallway. At the Slytherin table, laughter broke out, immediately stopped by the rest of the speech. "How dare you steal that car! I am absolutely disgusted! Your father's now facing an inquiry at work, and it's entirely your fault! If you even think about putting another toe out of line, you are coming straight home!" Her voice softened considerably. "Oh and Ginny, congratulations on making Gryfindor. Your father and I are so proud. The envelope burst into flames, before being blown away by a gust of magical wind.

Ron put his head in his hands. "I'm gonna get it now when I get home," he complained. Harry would be loathed to admit it, but he was feeling really guilty. The Weasleys had taken him in, given him their food and their hospitality for an entire month, and jacking their car was Harry's way of repaying them for their generosity. He didn't have time to think about that, for he saw another flock coming in.

Another owl headed for Harry, who cringed. It was Sirius's eagle owl, Cassiopeia. She landed gracefully on the table, extending her leg. Sure enough, a scarlet envelope was attached. Harry sighed as he took it. He opened it.

"Harry James Potter!" It was the voice of Moony, surprisingly. "I cannot believe you! Flying a car to Hogwarts? You could've been… you could've been… ah I give up." Raucous cheers and laughter soon followed.

"At a boy!" roared Sirius. "You've done the Marauders proud. Now, don't do it again!"

With that, the letter burst into flames. Harry was completely and utterly confused. Ron was ready to explode. "I get a near death threat from Mom, and you get laughter? No fair!"

McGonagal was walking down the table, passing out schedules. Harry looked at his.

"Oh joy," he drawled. "Double herbology first thing in the morning."

After breakfast, the group went outside, walking toward the greenhouses. Hermione had cooled down, and was talking to them again. Professor Sprout, looking as dumpy and dirty as ever, approached them. "Greenhouse 3 today, kids!" Harry was slightly surprised. Where greenhouse 1 held all the more harmless plants, like glowing daisies, perfuming mushrooms and the like, greenhouse 3 held some of the more dangerous plants.

Harry then could make out Lockhart's hair; it was unmistakable. "Oh hello there!" he said jovially. "Just showing dear Professor Sprout the proper way to doctor a womping willow. But don't you go thinking that I am better at herbology than she is!" Sprout's face contorted with annoyance. They went over to Greenhouse 3. As Sprout unlocked the door with her keys, Lockhart spotted Harry, and immediately cried out his name. "Ah, you wouldn't mind if I borrow Harry for a few minutes, would you Pomona?" He flashed her a dazzling smile. It was clear she did, but Lockhart just grinned, clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder and steered him away from his classmates.

"What do you want?" Harry said immediately. He was ready to set Lockhart's pretty boy face on fire.

Lockhart seemed not to notice Harry's cold tone, for he continued to flash those annoying pearly teeth. "Harry, Harry, Harry. You clearly have a lot to learn."

"About what?"

"The ups, the downs, and the outs of fame. I suppose it was my own fault. I offered you a taste of the limelight, and you wanted more. It's only natural, of course. I would have done the same thing had the roles been reversed. However, you must exercise control. You mustn't think big just yet. Flying a car to school?"

"But I.."

"I suppose being young does tend to make one reckless. I was the same when I was your age, although I was a mere nobody. I had not yet won Witch Weekly's most charming smile award. You have to start small on these things. It will pay off in the future, believe me." His eyes flickered up to Harry's scar. "And of course, I know about your triumph over You-Know-Who. I suppose you have to start from somewhere." And with that, he waved goodbye to Harry and strode off.

Harry strode into the classroom, his eyes narrowed, his fists clenched and his muscles tense. He saw his friends and went over to sit with them. "Hermione, what's a longer jail sentence, premeditated or heat of passion?"

"Premeditated," said Hermione, slightly confused.

"Good. Then I will shoot Lockhart in the head, but I won't think about it."

"Have I ever told you that you can be psychotic sometimes?" asked Ron.

"Twice last year," was Harry's reply.

"Why would you want to shoot Lockhart?" asked Hermione. "He's brilliant!"

"The only thing brilliant about him are his annoying teeth. He thinks that I flew the car here as a publicity stunt! The nerve of that guy!"

"Now, may I please have your undivided attention?" said Professor Sprout. Everyone gradually quieted down. She nodded. "Today, we are going to repot mandrakes. Can anyone tell me what a mandrake is, please?"

Surprisingly of course, Hermione's hand shot up into the air. At her nod, Hermione began. "Mandrake, or Mandrigora, is a very potent plant that is used in many restorative draughts. However, its method of defense is extremely deadly. The cry of a mandrake will kill anyone who hears it."

"The cry of a mandrake?" muttered Ron, confused.

"Excellent, Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryfindor. Now, since these mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill you yet. However they will knock you out for several hours which is why you must all wear earmuffs for your own protection." She flicked her wand and a basket of differently colored earmuffs soared around the room, hovering at each table. Everyone picked out one, the boys competing over the non-pink ones. When they all were earmuffed up, Sprout passed out pots. Then, she went to the front of the room and pulled out her wand. Text appeared in the air.

"Now, I will show you the proper way to repot a mandrake, so pay close attention." She grabbed a pot and held it up for the class to see. Apart from some soil and fertilizer, it only contained a small profusion of leaves, along with a stem similar to a shrub's. "Now, you will grab it firmly around the stem and yank upwards." She grabbed the stem firmly and yanked it. Out popped a little humanoid creature thing. Its eyes were the color of mud. The stem and leaves were on the top of its little head. It had tiny little square-shaped hands. Harry noticed that Seamus was slumped over on the table, some pink earmuffs right next to his head.

"Oh dear," thought Sprout. She went over to Seamus, probing him with her wand. More text appeared. "Can someone please take him to the hospital wing?"

After that was over and done with, Sprout passed out pots to everyone. Harry's mandrake nearly bit off his finger. He was sorely tempted to punch the thing. Ron's mandrake had thrown soil at his face. Hermione's and Neville's was perfectly tranquil.

After that, it was time for Defense against the dark arts. Harry was not looking forward to that at all. They went in, Hermione bouncing up and down with happiness.

"Isn't this great, you guys?" squealed Hermione.

"Last time I checked, I'm a guy, so no," said Harry dryly.

They sat in the middle of the room, Gilderoy Lockhart striding purposefully into the classroom. Not a sound was heard, especially from all the girls, whose eyes were glued like magnets to Gilderoy's form, which was swiftly making its way to the blackboard. He picked up some chalk and started to write, saying what he wrote. "Gilderoy Melvin Lockhart. Order of Merlin, third class, honorary member of the dark force defense league, and five times winner" he flashed his pearly whites, "of Witch Weekly's most charming smile award. Now, before I begin today's lesson, I thought it would be interesting how much you know about Magical Me." He flicked his wand, sheets of parchment flying towards the desks. Harry inwardly groaned. He did not like pop quizzes. "Please take your time, and simply hand them to me when you're done."

Harry sighed as he looked down at the quiz.

Name:

Date:

Magical Me Quiz

What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?

What is Gilderoy Lockhart's ambition?

What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite musician/band? …

And on it went, for about 20 questions. Harry just wrote random crap, handing it to Lockhart who glanced at it. If he was shocked by Harry's paper, he did not show it. Finally, everyone was done.

"Very good," said Gilderoy, smiling. "Oh, and 15 points to Gryfindor, Miss Granger. You clearly gained a true understanding of Magical Me. It warms my heart when that happens, for it is a greater remuneration than galleons ever could be." Hermione was eating it all up, glowing with happiness. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Now, I'm afraid we must begin." Lockhart instantly adopted a somber stance. "As defense against the dark arts professor, it is my solemn duty to inform you of the foulest creatures known to wizard kind. No only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here." He went to the back of his room, appearing with an enormous covered something floating behind him. He directed it towards his desk. "Now, I implore you not to scream. It might provoke them!" He removed the cover. It was a very large cage. Inside were what looked like a really bad stick figure cluster. They had little pincers for hands, blue hair, blue eyes, and a blue everything else. They zipped about the cage, beating at the bars with their tiny hands, shrieking and chittering like bats.

"Cornish pixies?" someone guffawed.

"Freshly caught Cornish pixies. It is a mistake to underestimate them. They are devilishly tricky little fellows. Let's see what you make of them." He released the latch on the cage, opening the doors. The pixies rocketed out of the cage, and created the most mayhem possible. They ripped books, they grabbed trunks, they knocked over ink wells, they destroyed rolls of parchment, and they even attacked some of the students. Neville was being lifted by the ears by two particularly vicious looking pixies. Harry had his wand out, trying to aim. The pixies moved too fast, however. Lockhart sighed. He pulled out his wand. "Pesky pixie pesternomi!" He dramatically flourished his wand, and absolutely nothing happened. One pixy grabbed it, chucking it out the window and giggled at him. Lockhart was slightly surprised.

"Fuck this," Harry growled. "Conseco! Conseco! Conseco!" Spells blasted out of his wand, and two pixies were cleanly cut in two, the third one nimbly avoiding his spell.

"Get me down!" cried Neville. "My ears hurt!"

Harry aimed carefully at the pixy firmly attached to Neville's left ear. "Conseco!" The pixy's body landed below him. The second pixy suffered the same fate. Everyone was looking at Harry with awe and a little appreciation… until Neville landed in an unceremonious heap on the desk. "Ow!" he cried. He clambered off the desk, rubbing his shoulder and lower arms. "Thanks Harry."

"Don't mention it," said Harry. The bell rang, and everyone gathered what was left of their possessions and trudged towards the door. "Can I please have some help getting these back into their cage?" Lockhart asked. Hermione pulled out her wand. She swept her wand through the air, shouting, "Imobulus!". Every single pixy in the immediate vicinity stopped dead, floating to the floor.

"Why didn't I think to do that?" muttered Harry.

The day pretty much went downhill from there. The quartet decided to sit in the courtyard for lunch, enjoying the nice weather. Harry and Ron were talking animatedly about quidditch while Neville and Hermione were talking about the finer points of herbology.

"Hi there Harry!" piped up a little voice from behind him.

Harry turned around. A little red-haired kid was standing there awkwardly, an analog camera clutched in his hand. "Hey, kid, who are you?"

"I'm Colin Crevey. And you're Harry Potter! I know all about you even though I'm a Muggle born my parents got the shock of their life when I got my letter but I promised to send them lots of pictures and I told them about you and they want to see you so can I get a picture of you?" This kid had some serious lung capacity. "One of your friends could take it and I'm standing next to you? And then maybe you could sign the photo?"

"Signed photos?" drawled a voice loudly. Harry wanted to blast something really, really badly. Malfoy was striding purposefully toward them, his muscle-bound lapdogs at his heels. "So, Potter, you're giving out signed photos now? So much for not wanting your fame and all that dung."

"You're just jealous!" piped up Collin.

Malfoy leered at the little kid, who was standing there, cool as a cucumber. Harry had to give it to him; the little guy had spunk. "Jealous? Of a bloody scar on my forehead? Gee, no thanks."

"Then beat it before I give you a permanent scar," growled Harry.

"Oooo, I'm sooooo scared," said Malfoy, shivering.

"Ditch your two boy toys and Miss Trollface and we settle this mano a mano, eh?"

"What is all the hubbub?" Harry was ready to curl into a ball and cry for a year or two. Gilderoy Lockhart, impeccable as always, was striding purposefully towards them, his pearly whites in full display. His eyes quickly took in the situation. "Large crowds? Little boy with camera? Harry, Harry, Harry, you little star, you. Well, let's have it then, Mr. Crevey is it? Me standing next to him how bout it? Double the fun!"

"OK!" squeaked Collin. Lockhart put an arm around Harry's shoulder. Harry resigned himself to the flash of the little plastic camera. He was not disappointed. Collin happily pressed the button, and Harry was subject to yet another picture of him and the blond idiot.

"Now, run along, ladies and gentlemen," said Lockhart jovially. "Lunch is just about over." He grabbed Harry's arm and lead him inside. "You should be happy I was there in time to cover for you. Signed photos? At so early in your career? That could give people the wrong idea. Remember my advice from earlier. You must start small on these things, work your way up. After all, you can't properly get to the topmost rung of a ladder without climbing all the other ones first, eh?" He patted Harry on the back. "I do sincerely wish you luck in your future endeavors, and always know that my doors are always open." And with that, he strode off down the hall. It was a positively fuming Harry that stormed into transfiguration class.

"Another talk with Lockhart?" asked Neville.

"He's such an idiot!" Harry hissed. "Thinks I want to be some bigshot public figure like him. Screw that!"

Transfiguration was hard as always, especially for Ron. Even with his wand taped up, it did not feel like working properly anymore. The beetle they were supposed to be turning into a button that Ron was working on was subject to fire, smoke that smelled like rotten eggs, and a stab from the wand itself. Harry was concentrating on the beetle.

"Don't think about the means so much as the end result." Harry was so startled by the sudden, deep voice in his head that he squashed his beetle, prompting McGonagall to get him a new one.

"Vinconex? I thought you were pissed off at me?"

"Well, of course I was pissed! You ruined a very, um, special time for me!" Harry was sent the image of a startlingly beautiful tropical bird with brightly colored plumage.

"Cradle robber," Harry thought.

"Touché, little man, touché."

"How's Barbados?"

"Nah, I got out of that place. I'm chilling outside your window right now, looking at your pathetic attempts at transfiguration."

"Oh, then, you do it."

"I'm a bird, so no. However, what I can do is give you advice. Forget all the theory bullshit. It's all about imagination, that's what it all comes down to. That and a little spacial reasoning. Now, just imagine a button, a regular coat button, and let it be the only thing that's in your mind."

Harry thought of a little button on his favorite leather coat. He pointed his wand at his new beetle and, with a pop, the beetle was a shiny button. Ron was not doing so well. In fact, the last beetle he had been presented with grew to the size of an apple before popping like a balloon.

"I hate my wand!" Ron complained, glaring accusingly at its sad remains.

"Write your mom to get a new one," suggested Harry.

"And have her send me another howler? No thanks," said Ron. It would be a very long time before Ron got a decent wand again.


	7. Chapter 7

The first week, Harry concluded, was always the hardest. An egomaniac for a defense professor and an evil slytherin for a potions master didn't help things much. Ron was not faring any better. His wand caused several fires, about two explosions, and a very pissed off Harry to be bald for the rest of the day. It was with a great sigh of relief that Harry crawled into bed Friday night. This was the best part of the day, crawling into the nice, warm blankets. They were so soft, so warm, and so clean. The bed was always neatly made and perfectly kept. This, combined with the stresses of that week, caused Harry to relax, his mind wandering freely, slowly and surely sinking into a very profound, serene, and peaceful slumber.

"Potter get up!" Harry woke with a start, looking around frantically. He saw Oliver Wood at the foot of his bed, a crazed gleam in his eye.

"Somebody better be dying," Harry growled.

"Quidditch practice," said Wood, smiling from ear to ear.

Harry looked at his watch: 6:07 AM. "That's way too early. No one else is outside."

"Exactly. Now come on." Harry clambered out of bed, performing his usual morning stretches. "At a boy," said Wood. "Get changed and be in the Quidditch pitch in half an hour." Harry brushed his teeth and changed into his scarlet Quidditch robes. He picked up his nimbus 2000 and trudged out of the dormitory. He had left a little note for Ron explaining where he was. He walked down the stairs and crossed the common room.

"Hi Harry!" Collin Crevey, his camera clutched happily in his hand, came scurrying towards him. "You going to Quidditch?"

"Yeah, just to practice though," said Harry.

"Ooo, can I come?"

"It'll be really boring, trust me," said Harry.

"Is it true you're the youngest seeker?" Harry walked out of the common room. Collin was at his heels, shooting out question after question like machine gun bullets. "Is it true that the seeker is the hardest position on the game? Is it true your dad was really good at it?"

"Look, kid," said Harry, getting annoyed. "I'm flattered that you think I'm cool and all that, but mate, you gotta chill, alright?"

"Sorry," said Collin. "So, how does quidditch work? What's that big red ball for? Are there six or seven players?"

Yup, that kid would never learn. Harry resigned himself to answering the kid's questions. "Quidditch is simple. There are seven players and four balls. There's the quaffle which is the one that looks like a soccer ball, two bludgers which are the black ones that look like baseballs, and the golden snitch, which is insanely tiny, smaller than a marble. Three players are called chasers. They throw the ball around and try to score by throwing it in those tall hoop things to score 10 points. There are two beaters, whose job is to whack bludgers into people to keep them from scoring. Then the snitch is the smallest and fastest ball of them all, and the seeker who catches it ends the game and earns the team an extra 150 points."

"That's so cool!"

They had arrived at the quidditch pitch. Harry waved goodbye to Collin, who scampered off to a place in the stands. He got into the locker-room, along with the twins, who looked just as tired as he was.

"Alright," said Wood happily. He pulled out a small board from his pocket. He waited till everyone got settled before waving his wand and enlarging it, revealing a very comprehensive diagram. Well, to a Quidditch strategist. All Harry saw was a bunch of squiggles and arrows. Wood tapped the board with his wand and the arrows moved. "Now," said Wood. "We can win the cup this year. I know we can. We would've won it last year if it weren't for circumstances beyond our control."

"Sorry," muttered Harry. Gryfindor had been spectacularly destroyed last year, the final being precisely a day when Harry was recovering from his ordeal with Voldemort in the hospital wing.

"Not your fault, bud," said Wood. "but now is a different year. I have devised a perfect strategy that involves… bla bla bla bla bla bla bla, bla bla, bla bla bla bla, bla bla bla bla bla bla…" It might as well have been that what Harry was hearing, for he was dead to the world, his head resting comfortably on Katy Bell's shoulder. Maybe she was fast asleep too, for she didn't even react to it.

"…bla bla, bla bla. Are there any questions? » No response. "Sonorus," Wood muttered, pointing his wand at his throat. "ARE THERE ANY QUESTIONS, SLEEPYHEADS!" Wood's booming voice reverberated throughout the entire locker-room, and even some birds far away took flight at the sudden noise. Everyone woke with a start, Harry bumping heads with Katy, who yelped and swatted his arm.

"Please, get your head off my shoulder," she said.

"But it's comfy!" Harry fake whined.

"It's also out of your league and a year older than you," said George, eliciting a few laughs.

"I was just lying on her shoulder!" protested Harry, glaring at the twins. Katie was blushing furiously.

"Ah, to be young," said Fred.

Wood cleared his throat after applying the counter charm. "Again, are there any questions?"

"Yeah," said Fred. "Why did you have to wake us up at Merlin knows when to tell us this? Couldn't this have waited a bit?"

Wood glared at him. "We have to stay in tip top shape if we're gonna win this cup." It was clear that that defeat last year still pained Wood deeply. "Now, let's head out.

Very few things were better than flying, Harry thought. He took to the skies, zipping around the quidditch pitch in a few warm up laps. He caught sight of his friends, who waved at him.

"Get closer Harry, I can't get a good shot from here!" Collin Crevey was desperately clicking away.

Harry did a 180 and distanced himself from him.

"Who's that kid?" demanded Wood, pointing at Collin, who took more pictures. "Get him out. he could be a Slytherin spy taking pictures of us."

"He's a Gryfindor," cut in Harry hurriedly.

"Besides, he doesn't need to," said Fred nervously.

"And why's that?" demanded Wood.

"Because they're heading this way," said George.

"What!" shouted Wood. "Alright everybody land!" Everyone obeyed him, following Wood as he angrily made his way towards the group of Slytherins making their way toward the pitch. "Flint!" Wood roared. "I booked the pitch for Gryfindor. Take your snakes and scram!"

"Calm it, Woody," said Flint. "Professor Snape gave us a note."

"A note? Let's see it then," said Wood. Flint stepped forward and handed Wood a crumpled piece of parchment.

Wood read aloud. "As head of Slytherin house, I, Severus Snape, give permission for the Slytherin Quidditch team to practice today, owing to the fact that they need to train their new seeker." He crumpled the note and tossed it back to Flint, who caught it. "You got a new seeker?" Flint snapped his fingers. Draco Malfoy, easily the smallest and palest of them all, swaggered towards them, a large parcel on his shoulder.

"Hey, Gryfindorks," he said, smirking.

Ron, Hermione, Neville and Collin had come down to join the fun. "You?" scoffed Ron.

"Hey, give him a break," said Harry. "Even rat faces have to have their fun sometimes." His team laughed.

"Oh, keep laughing," said Malfoy. "No, please do. But wait till I open this box." He set it down on the ground. "Nimbus" was emblazoned on the top of the box. Harry had a sinking suspicion as to where this was going. Malfoy pulled out his wand, muttering a defindo charm to cut the tape. He ripped open the box, taking out the packaging paper, and took out a sleep, black case. He opened it, raising it above his shoulder. Inside was a magnificent broom, beautifully crafted, with the words NIMBUS 2001 emblazoned on the tail. He pulled out six more cases and passed them towards the other six people on his team. "The nimbus 2001," he declared proudly. "My father got me one for my birthday, but he decided to throw the other six in as a treat."

"But those are the latest models!" cried Ron. "They're not even in the market yet!"

"My father, unlike yours, has connections, Weasley."

"At least none of the Gryfindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione. "They got in on pure talent."

"Nobody asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood," spat Malfoy.

The Gryfindor team cried out in outrage. Harry's and Ron's wands were out in a flash. "Eat slugs!" cried Ron. A nasty jinx was on Harry's lips before Ron was blasted backward, landing on the ground. He had done the spell perfectly, the only problem being it had come from the wrong end. Harry stowed his wand away, giving Malfoy the finger. He rushed over to Ron's side, as did all the other Gryfindors present. Collin was happily clicking away.

"You ok Ron?" asked Harry.

Ron opened his mouth. He made a choaked sound, but all that was produced were a couple of very fat slugs. Everyone backed away in disgust. Ron tried to talk again, but more slugs came out. The slytherin team burst out in laughter.

"We've got to get him inside," said Hermione. Neville and Harry grabbed Ron by the armpits, pulling him to his feet. They turned around and draped an arm over each shoulder. Hermione was leading them as the three awkwardly made their way to the hut, Ron spewing the occasional slug. Then, Harry saw that horridly familiar mop of blond, wavy hair. Luckily, he was heading in the opposite direction and didn't see them. This didn't stop Harry from becoming as rigid as a statue, motioning the others to do the same. They finally approached the door to Hagrid's hut when the coast was clear. Harry knocked on the door.

"I told you, I don't need your help thank you," growled Hagrid.

"It's us," said Harry.

"Oh, sorry," muttered Hagrid. "Just a minute. Down boy!" He opened the door, smiling at them. His smile faltered at the sight of Ron, unable to stand without the support of Harry and Neville. "Come in quick." The four trooped inside. "So, what's the problem now?" Ron responded by vomiting a particularly slimy slug on the floor. Hagrid sighed. "Ah, the slug vomiting curse," he said. "Good times, good times."

"Well, how do you get rid of it?" asked Hermione.

"Nothing I can do, I'm afraid. Just gonna have to wait it out, hold on." He disappeared out of the back door, appearing with a very large bucket. He plopped it down in front of Ron. "Just puke them into there. The spell shouldn't last all that long. What happened anyway?"

"Malfoy happened," muttered Harry.

"Bad blood the lot of them," muttered Hagrid.

"Tell me about it," said Neville.

"Oh, Hagrid, what's a mudblood?" asked Hermione.

Hagrid's eyes hardened. "You shouldn't talk like that in public," he said. "Where'd you here that?"

"Malfoy called her that," Harry growled.

"He did not."

"What is it?" insisted Hermione.

Hagrid sighed. "It's a derogatory term for people who are of muggle descent," he said. "See Hermione, there are some wizards, like the Malfoys, who think they're better than others because they are "pure-blooded". That simply means both your parents are wizards. Ron and Neville here are pure-bloods. Now half-bloods are people who have one pure-blood parent and another that is either a muggle or a muggle-born, like Harry over here. But don't you dare go thinking that being muggle-born means you're less than everyone. Look at Harry's mom. She could brew ridiculously hard potions at age 14. She was one of the brightest students to ever walk Hogwarts, and you are well on your way to being as good, if not better, than her. I don't think they've invented a spell you can't do."

"Sirius always said that there's no such thing as muggle-born, because all magic had to come from somewhere."

"He's right," said Hagrid. "Magic can't be created or destroyed. Everyone with half a brain knows that."

"Then the Malfoys must not have half a brain," said Neville.

"Them along with 40% of wizarding population," muttered Hagrid.

"Most wizards are half-blood anyway." Ron spoke for the first time, a slug army joining its brethren in the bucket. "If we hadn't married muggles, we would be dead by now."

"True," said Hagrid. "Very true."

"What did Lockhart want with you anyway?" asked Harry.

"Tryin' to help me plant my own damn pumpkins. Like I don't know how to plant pumpkins! And he goes on and on about some banshee he banished. If he actually banished that banshee, I'll eat my kettle."

"You hate him too?" asked Harry.

"He's brilliant though!" said Hermione. "Dumbledore obviously thought so. He was the right man for the job."

"He was the only man for the job," said Hagrid. "Nobody wants to work that position. They think it's cursed. No one's lasted for more than a year since 1956."

"That's about 36 years," said Hermione, doing the math in her head. "That's a lot."

"It is," agreed Hagrid. "You guys wanna see my vegetable garden?" The four agreed. They went out the back door to a small but well-kept vegetable garden. "Here are my pumpkins," declared Hagrid proudly.

"Those aren't pumpkins," cried Harry, staring at the towering boulder-sized pumpkins. "Those are behemoths!"

"I know," said Hagrid, grinning.

"Did you feed 'em steroids?"

"What are steroids?"

"Never mind." Harry had spotted a flowery pink umbrella propped up against one wall. He had heard about Hagrid's expulsion from Hogwarts. Those pumpkins couldn't have possibly grown that size the natural way. "Engorgement charm?" he guessed.

"Yeah, better not tell anyone about my, um, extra help."

"What extra help?"

"Exactly."

The four were entering the great hall, eager to eat some food. Harry had not eaten breakfast thanks to Wood, but he probably wouldn't be eating lunch either, for striding purposefully towards them was Professor McGonagal.

"Potter! Weasley!" she barked. The two froze instantly. "Your detentions are tonight. Weasley, you will be helping Argus Filch polish the trophies in the trophy room. No magic, only elbow grease. As for you, Potter, you are to report to Professor Lockhart's office to address his fan mail. Am I understood?"

"Please can I go to the trophy room?" Harry begged. "Hell I'll scrub the boy's bathroom with a toothbrush if you want me to, anything but Lockhart."

"No, you may not," said McGonagal sharply, raising her eyebrows. "In fact, you've been requested specifically. You will report to your assigned locations at 8:00 sharp. Failure to do so will result in 40 house points from the each of you and yet another detention."

Harry's delectable oven-roast chicken didn't seem so appetizing now. "Tonight's gonna suck," he groaned. Hermione gave him a "That's your own fault" look.

"Tell me about it," said Ron. "Filch is gonna make me polish everything, and I mean everything. And no magic?"

"I'd love to do that," said Harry. "At least it's a decent workout, but I have an obsessive egomaniac to look forward to."

The universe definitely wanted him to have that detention, for the rest of the day sped by like a bullet train. Before he knew it, he was slowly making his way to Lockhart's office. He knocked on the door.

"Come in, come in!" Lockhart opened the door, beaming at him. "Didn't expect such a treat for detention, did ya?" Harry stepped inside the office. Lockhart was everywhere. There were pictures of him on the walls, (some of them signed), a giant self-portrait on the fireplace, and even stacks and stacks of pictures on his desk. Harry suppressed a shudder at the mountainous stacks of envelopes. "Now, all you have to do is address and sign them, very easy."

He was right. It was easy. However, the sheer number of envelopes proved to make the job ridiculously tedious. In his envelope-induced trance, Harry could make out the occasional blurb from Lockhart like, "Fame is a fickle friend, Harry", or, "Celebrity is as celebrity does. Remember that". He was seriously becoming ludicrously bored. Then, he heard it: a voice, an icy, cold, cruel voice. He jumped in his chair, shouting, "What!"

"I know! Six months on the best selling list. A new record!"

"No, that voice."

"What voice, Harry? I don't hear anything?"

Harry was stunned. He had heard it, and he would never forget what it said: "Come. Come to me. Let me rip you. Let me tear you. Let me kill you. Kill… kill… kill… kill…" He looked around, but there was only the two of them in the room.

"Good heavens, look at the time!" exclaimed Lockhart. "Why it's almost midnight! Time does fly when you're having fun. Now, run along Harry, I'm sure you need your sleep."

Harry gladly did, not being able to get out of that office fast enough. He made it to the portrait hole, swung it open, and crawled into bed.


End file.
